“You told people about it?” She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter. They can’t beat me to press.”

“I told people who can help you understand the book. I swear, no one has designs on your story.”

She hesitated. “All right, but everything I’ve written is conjecture. If you brought me experts . . . I’ve already turned the story in, but I’ve got a bit of time—”

“A story about the book?” At her nod, his stomach lurched. Dear God. With that article, she was painting a huge red target on her forehead for Mathias. He forced himself to relax. “Well, you have until tomorrow afternoon to change it, right?”

“Unless Holly puts it up as a web story first. She’ll let me know in the morning.”

“Call her and tell her to hold it. You’ll want to, once you talk to my connections. Olivia Gray owns a local art gallery and is an expert in antiquities. She’s handled something remarkably similar before.”

Sydney’s face softened and excitement bloomed. “Really?”

Feeling guilt sear him again, he managed to nod. “I also spoke with Simon Northam. He’s—”

“The Simon Northam? The Duke of Hurstgrove?”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. Who doesn’t? Hello! Magazine named him England’s sexiest bachelor. He’s filthy rich and intelligent and . . . he knows about this book and is willing to talk to me?”

“Indeed. Antique books are a passion of his. They both need to examine the book. In your presence, of course.” Right before they take it. “Will you let them? They can either come here or meet you at the pub ‘round the corner. I told them I would call if you were willing.”

Sydney hesitated, biting her lip. The sight distracted Caden, who restrained the urge to lean across and kiss her. Giving into that impulse? Disaster. He didn’t want to be magically compelled to mate. Sydney was human. She didn’t belong in the middle of this magical war. And if she accepted his Call, her lifespan would match his. Who would want to live centuries fraught with danger, surrounded by people who could kill her in the blink of an eye when she had no way to fight back? And did he want to risk losing her and winding up like Lucan? No and no.

“I want to talk to them. But no pictures. The book doesn’t leave my sight. No one writes anything down.”

Caden nodded, even as the pain of deceiving her again lanced him. Though it was for her own good, it ripped his insides. “And you’ll call Holly?”

A heartbeat passed, another. He’d do anything to keep that article out of the paper and keep her safe.

“If I like what Olivia and Hurstgrove say, I’ll call and tell her to hold the story so I can make some modifications. If I don’t hear anything interesting, it’ll run as is.”

Caden released a shaky breath. He hoped that gave them enough time to take the book and somehow convince her to pull the story. He’d have to devise a new way to find Anka. Because he refused to keep hurting his pretty redheaded firecracker.

“Thank you. I hope you find Olivia and Duke’s information helpful.”

“Duke?”

“Simon’s nickname.”

“Simon, is it? How well do you know him?”

Well enough to have fought a battle by his side. Well enough to have endured Marrok’s physical training with Duke until they nearly dropped. Of all the Doomsday Brethren, Caden liked Duke most. He didn’t bark orders, like Marrok. He wasn’t half mad, like Ice. Or a manipulative sod, like Bram. He was reliable, unlike Shock. Duke was quiet, shrewd, and tough when necessary. Having a bazillion pounds hadn’t made him pretentious at all.

“We met a few weeks ago,” he hedged. “He’s a friend of my brother’s.”

Sydney shook her head. “This is surreal. I appreciate you introducing me to Olivia and ‘Duke.’ But regardless of what they say, I still can’t give you the name of my source.”

Caden wished otherwise, but he respected her loyalty. “I know.”

“If you want me to meet these people, why come here alone?”

Because he wanted to see her. Talk to her. Touch her one last time.

Her lips parted expectantly, and he tensed, stepped closer. It would be so easy. . . . Lean in, close his eyes, press his mouth to hers, let magic and fate take over. He’d have someone who would be his ‘til death parted them.

What if she didn’t want that? Or want to live a millennium? Committing to him wouldn’t be for a typical fifty years, after all. What if they discovered they didn’t like each other in a few hundred years, or for that matter, two decades, or two months? Or what if the war took her from him tomorrow and he slid into mate mourning madness?

“Caden?” she prompted.

Impossible to be totally honest with her, but he had to be as honest as he could and leave with the cleanest conscience possible.

“As I said, I can’t stay away from you. You’re an amazing woman.”

She swallowed. The moment pulsed between them, thick, tense. Caden leaned in farther, drawn by her fruity jasmine scent, by those chocolate eyes that were melting him by the second. No, no, no! His internal temperature kicked up— right along with his amped-up sex drive. He hadn’t touched her and already he felt unbearably aroused. He cupped her cheek with shaking hand, trailed his thumb over her lips. Her mouth looked like heaven.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she breathed raggedly.

She was affected, too. The knowledge seared him.

Caden caressed his way from her shoulder to her nape. “Stop me.”

Her breathing picked up speed. “Why do you want this?”

“I think of you. Constantly. For once in my life, I’m not in control. I shouldn’t do this. I know it. Yet, I can’t stop.”

That was the complete truth.

Sydney breathed hard. “This is a terrible idea.”

Agreed, but that didn’t douse his need.

When she paced nervously to her little dining room, he followed. “I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to help my brother, but then I got caught up in you. I wasn’t always honest. I apologize. But I can’t tell you I don’t want you. That would be the biggest lie of all.”

Sydney pressed her lips together and looked at him over her shoulder. Her expression said she was staving off tears. “I have never had serious feelings for any man. But in less than a week, you’ve changed everything. Letting you leave here Tuesday morning was one of the most difficult things I’ve done, but I refused to fight for something you didn’t want. Now you’re back. What’s changed?”

Even in matters of the heart, she whittled away the crap and asked the tough questions. But it was a fair question. Something had changed inside him. More dreams of Sydney, his magical instincts and admiration growing stronger, that damn persistent ache in his chest, fear he’d never see her again—none of it was letting him leave her.

“What I feel is too strong to ignore. I tried, God knows. It’s such a difficult time in my life, and a pull this strong can’t be natural.”

Caden edged closer, pressing his body against her back, his erection against the taut curves of her backside. He gritted his teeth, trying to stay focused. His energy, which had been lagging all day, shot up the moment he pressed himself to her. Unfortunately, so did his need.

“I can’t fight it,” he murmured.

Her breath hitched on a sob. “Me, either.”

“I’ve known you to be smart, sexy, ambitious, tough, compassionate . . . and brutally honest. I appreciate you for it.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face in his direction. When she stared over her shoulder, he saw her eyes glossed with tears. Her cheeks were red, her lips a swollen invitation to paradise.

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. “You will, if you spend the night and leave again in the morning without a backward glance.”

“I don’t think I can leave you again. My connection to you is stronger than my will.”

God, if he was going to confess that, why not just kiss her? Issue the Call that was instinctually bred down into every wizard’s bones and be done? He’d never known or paid attention to the words of the Call until meeting Sydney. Now, they slid through his head with frightening regularity.

“You truly want to be here?” Her voice trembled.

Yes and no . . . but more yes. “I don’t think I could leave, even if you tossed me out.”

His mobile phone, tucked in his pocket, rang. He glanced at the display and cursed. Duke.

“Don’t answer that,” Sydney said, startling him.

Want darkened her eyes. His body tightened, leapt in response. He shouldn’t do this. She deserved better. But he’d likely never again touch her, and the knowledge was killing him.

“You’re certain?”

After a slight pause, she gave him a shaky nod. “I may regret this tomorrow, but you’re right. I’m honest and I want you.”

With a press of his thumb, he silenced the phone’s ring, then set it on the table.

Bloody hell, he wanted to kiss Sydney. So damn badly. Those parted rosy lips were mere inches under his, moist and enticing. Somehow, for both of them, he had to resist. Otherwise, he’d blurt the Call. The words were a constant chanting in his head. Become a part of me . . .

He pressed his mouth to her jaw, the side of her neck. She scooted around, trying to inch her mouth under his again.

A distraction. They both needed one before things got out of hand.

Caden nibbled at the shell of her ear, breath harsh. She shivered. But her body trembled harder when he reached around her other shoulder and his fingers found the buttons to her little attention-getting blouse. He undid the first, the second, none too gently, then slid his hand inside, beneath her bra, to cup her breast. Under his palm, her heart beat like a wild drum. She pressed her backside against him and moaned. Beautiful, sweet woman.

As I become a part of you . . . the Call continued in his head.

He shoved the words from his mind and focused on the rest of the buttons. They parted for him in a fluid unveiling of skin, sighs, and desire. When he peeled the garment away, he couldn’t keep his hands from devouring all the soft cinnamon-freckled skin on her soft abdomen, until he molded his palms over her lace-covered breasts.

She threw her head back onto his shoulder and gasped. He smelled her fruity-jasmine scent, which had haunted him for two days. But now there was more. Musk. Desire. He could smell her arousal. Because of his coming transition? Was he simply more attuned to her? Didn’t matter. It kicked blood straight to his cock, and he pressed against her, dying to fill her up and be one with her.

Sydney reached up between his hands and he heard a little click. Suddenly her bra eased away from her breasts.

Grabbing one strap, he tore it off and tossed it across the room. Then he filled his hands with her bare breasts, the little beaded nipples scorching his palms. God help him. He’d always adored women, but this . . .this was more. Beyond control. Sydney set him on fire, pushed him past restraint. Amazed him.

Soft, feminine arms reached around him to clasp at the back of his neck, which pressed her breasts even deeper into his hands. Words kept popping into his head.

And ever after, I promise myself to thee.

He rolled her nipples between her fingers, and she moaned. His body shook. Fire raged inside him, barely in control. He wanted—no, needed—more from Sydney. Everything. Now.

Lowering his hands to the curve of her waist, over her hips, he encountered the side release of her skirt. He could have easily lifted it, but he liked the idea of her being bare for him.

He yanked the zip down, then shoved the garment over her hips. What she wore beneath—black, lacy, small—easy to shred with his hands.

Now she was naked, all warm flesh and breathy sighs, arched, exposed. His.

Caden had his shirt off in a moment. Sydney tilted her head, giving him the naked flesh of her neck and the soft curve of her shoulder. He put his mouth to her, dying for any taste of her he could afford.

He ripped into his jeans, discarding them and everything beneath, laving his tongue across her skin. He savored her addicting salty honey flavor. He moaned into her ear, and she shivered against him.

“Sydney?”

“Yes,” she breathed as his lips trailed across her shoulder blade. “Now.”

That was all Caden had to hear.

Taking her hip in one hand, he guided his erection to her slick sex with the other and pressed in slowly. Tight, like an amazing glove fit just for him. So perfect.

Each day we share, I will be honest, good, and true.

Caden shook his head, trying to dislodge the words that kept circling in his brain. This was about savoring their last touch, not claiming her forever. But Sydney’s hot grip short-circuited him. Instead, he sank in, gave himself over, let pleasure take him dangerously higher.

Beneath him, Sydney panted. Her body softened. The smell of her arousal grew stronger, so strong he swore he could almost taste her. Every instinct he possessed urged him to kiss her—her mouth, her sex—any part of her, every part.

He fought the urge, clenching her hip in one hand and wrapping the other around her body until his fingers found her clit. Draped over her back, Caden worked the delicate bud of nerves. Grazing, circling, slow caresses designed to drive her mad, while he filled her with deep, possessive strokes.

Soon, she tightened on him. Her fingernails dug into his wrist. Her pants became groans, then wails. And his body tensed, dying to feel everything about her, release himself into her completely, give himself, body and soul.

If this you seek, heed my Call.

The words no sooner crossed his mind when Sydney clamped down, cried out, and her body surrendered to his completely. God, he wanted to see her face, watch her expressive dark eyes as pleasure overtook her, kiss her mouth, and claim her as he came.